The Turning Point
by Clory
Summary: Set after the third book. Heather is returning from a disaster solo camping trip when she encounters Jacob. An unexplicable energy is pulling them together at every turn. Will the two give in to gravity or will their painful pasts wrench them apart?
1. The Road

It's an unusually groggy night; the air is hanging low and thick on the road. In the dying light of the sun, the cement snakes ahead of me like a black river, its surface shimmering with heat. My bag is weighing me down so much, I feel like a turtle. I'm eager for the coolness of the night to ease my misguided adventure. I scoff at myself as I trudge along the deserted road, thinking about my botched camping trip. It's my year off before heading to college, and being the idealistic wanna-be naturalist, I decided to go on a solo camping trip, hoping to proof myself to Mother Nature in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest. But let's face it, I grew up with the comforts of suburban living and simply can't face the endless hours of nothingness for long. I lasted a mere ten days in the rainforest before the ever present bugs, boredom, and rain sent me packing. I had arranged for a taxi to pick me up at an exit along highway 101 in another two weeks, but my phone has no service...just my luck. I am stuck without a ride to anywhere. So, I am roughing it, walking along the highway all by myself in the middle of nowhere.

My skin is prickling with anxious energy. I keep turning nervously whenever the wind picks up, I feel like I hear someone following me. Leaves rattle across the cement, tree branches swish in the breeze. Stupid. I am so stupid. No one is following me. I am in the middle of nowhere; the worst person I will encounter is another tree hugger, or maybe an errant raccoon. I can't psyche myself out. It's just a road, I can't be more than a few miles from some dinky little town where I can find a payphone. Humming helps, it gets my mind off of the forest noises that erupt from either side of the road randomly, making me jump as it shatters the relative silence. My mother will laugh when I get home; she told me it would end up like this. I sigh again, this is simply embarrassing. I wallow in my self pity, wavering my gait awkwardly as I let the weight of the bag bore down upon my weak knees.

Suddenly, shadows spring from my toes as the headlights of a car appear roaring from around a bend. My thumb jumps out, a ride would be so convenient right now. I hope, squeezing my eyes shut, as if it will make my thoughts more powerful. Pick me up, pick me up! The car rushes by at a breakneck speed, almost looking like it will spin out of control as it handles the next bend. Dust swirls around me, my shadow fades away, and I pull a terrible pout. This sucks.

Night falls and the moon is full, good for me I suppose. Two other cars passed me, both ignored me. What is with these people? I thought people from the country always gave rides to teenage bums. They do in the movies at least. I didn't set camp up before nightfall, in false hope of a passing car taking me to civilization and a hot shower. I am dumb...its impossible to set a tent up right in the dark. Frustration seethes through me like a fever. I bore holes into my feet with an angry stare, as if it's their fault for bringing me to this place. The Olympic peninsula seemed so magical, so earthy and natural. When I planned this trip, I felt like I would find myself here like some transcendentalist philosopher. But alas, I am still as lost as ever.

I continue cursing my failed trip when my muscles freeze instinctively. I hear something. I hear someone. This isn't just the leaves blowing across the road; this isn't the cry of some animal from the brush. Distinct and sharp, the heavy footsteps of a person echo in my mind like gunshots. Bursting with adrenalin, my senses focus like I never thought possible. I am paranoid, haunted by my mothers constant warnings of serial killers and crazies wandering around waiting for little girls like me to steal. I barely breathe, as if it will make a difference if the person hears me exhale or not. They are coming from in front, from around a bend, hidden by the great redwoods bordering the highway. I contemplate slipping into the vegetation by the hard shoulder. It will be noisy...but they might not see me. But, what if it's just another hiker? They will think I am a complete lunatic if they see me cowering in the ferns and brambles. My logic bullies my overactive instincts down and I compose myself, though still tense. It is just another hiker, what serial killer takes walks down scenic highways at night? My instinct is screaming at me- Killers who want to find solo hikers like you! That's who! My logic screams- There are no serial killers! Don't be silly!

A silvery shadow lurks around the bend, causing me to freeze up again as its owner appears, a young man. Lanky and tall, he is moving gracefully down the road with a particularly dark look on his regal features. The wind rustles his black hair and he looks up, eyes immediately focusing on me. Strangely, he isn't wearing shoes, or a shirt for that matter. I wonder how his footsteps were so loud. He has nothing but the pair of faded jeans he is wearing. I quickly assess the threat to my safety. He obviously isn't a hiker, giving him a higher possibility of being a deranged killer. Thought he doesn't have any chainsaws or machetes...It's to late though, he's already seen me. Killer or not, he is pretty intimidating. His gait is slow and constant, heading directly towards me with a calmness of someone who is very sure of themselves. I am dead. A whimper escapes my lips involuntarily, I can't move. He hears my pathetic sound, and looks confused. He must think I am totally freaky, maybe I will scare him off so he can find more worthy prey. He stops walking. He takes his hands out of his pockets and seems to examine me, his expression scrutinizing. He looks up and inhales deeply before letting out a big sigh. My lungs ache; I didn't even realize I was holding my breath. A wide grin splashes across his face unexpectedly,

"What are you doing out here all alone?"

His hands slide back into his pockets in a quick fluid movement, but he remains where he is, cocking his head to one side questioningly. I become aware of myself again, my mouth is hanging open and my face is one of utter horror and surprise. I regain my posture, trying to look confident, not like an easy target.

"Just returning from a camping trip." I answer curtly. I stand up straight, drawing up all 5' 2" of myself, trying to look like I know where I am going. My eyes meet his. I feel like an electric current passes between us, shocking me into looking away.

"Where are you heading?" He asks, innocently enough. I can't help but remain tense and suspicious.

I feel my eyes squint as I reply, "across the sound, on the eastside." Vague, but it answers the question. He starts walking toward me and lets out a low chuckle. I back up one step and tense up more; my face warps into a mask of fear and confusion. Why would he laugh? He must be skitzo, a crazy. I can't run with this stupid backpack, but it has all my stuff. I imagine my iPhone packed deep in the center of the bulk, impossible to get to. I cringe at the thought of loosing it. He keeps approaching, despite my obvious apprehension. He is huge. As he gets closer I see knots of muscle highlighted by the moon. I am going to die, he is gonna strangle me to death, right here, right now. I know it.

"You know you are heading exactly the wrong way to Seattle?" He stops ten feet from me, an amused look plays about his face.

"No," I am defensive, "this is heading east."

He lifts himself up on his tiptoes, as if to peer down the road. "Did you follow the way the big wooden sign was pointing, the one a few miles back down the road?" He grinned, eager for my response. I slur out a "yes," unsure if I want to hear anymore from the strange boy.

"Some kids turned that sign around a few months ago to trick the tourists, you are actually heading west. You look pretty lost, do you need some help?" He gives me a charming smile, softening his features. He can't be much younger than I am. Still, I am freaking out. He has no shoes on for goodness sakes. What kind of person walks around a forest road with no shoes?

I stutter incoherent words, unsure of what to say. "Uh, my mom said I shouldn't talk to strangers." I turn, utterly horrified at the ridiculous thing I just said, and start crossing the road.

"Wait up, wait!" His arm is outstretched as if to pull me back over to his side of the road. "The road is dangerous at night, you should come home with me, you can crash on my couch if you'd like." I am so skittish, am I being ridiculous? I can't tell. "Look, I know you just met me and it's sort of weird, but I can't leave you out here all alone. You look so lost and scared, really, let me give you a place to sleep and I can drive you to town tomorrow so you can get a taxi to Port Angeles. I am not a creeper, don't worry." I remain unsure. His eyes plead with me.

"Look, I know you are a city girl. Any hiker would have realized when they saw the sun set that they were heading the wrong way. You have no idea where you are going, and I do. Just let me help you." He grins victoriously, as if he won an argument. I sneer as he points out my obvious lack of skill in the great outdoors. He is right though, I do suck at directions. Despite every voice in my head telling me otherwise, I feel compelled to comply. I am not expected home for another two weeks; I have time for something spontaneous. How uncharacteristic of myself. I flinch as I agree,

"Under normal circumstances I wouldn't do this...but I could really use a hot shower," I grimace as I think of the state of my appearances, "I would really appreciate a soft bed too." I smile crookedly, as if to apologize for being so paranoid. He grins brightly as I accept, and throws out his huge hand. My hand looks like a child's locked in his heavy grip as we greet each other formally,

"My name is Jacob, but you can call me Jake."

I smile back. I can't help it. He looks so elated that I accepted his invitation.

"My name is Heather, nice to meet you Jake."


	2. Trust

We have been walking for at least forty-five minutes. I am getting a little worried. Was this really a very good idea on my part-probably not. When are we getting to his house, when are we even going to find his little town? Where is he taking me? The dark lengths of the road continue appearing after every bend, renewing my fright and uncertainty.

At least he took my backpack. I felt bad that he had to carry the monstrously oversized thing, but he insisted he did not mind at all. I thought it might be awkward walking all alone with a stranger, but boy is he a talker. I don't think he shut up once for the first ten minutes, just buzzed a million words a minute at me. He seems so excited to meet me, as if he hasn't seen another human in a decade or something. He told me all about himself and the reservation where he lives with his dad and his friends. He told me about his bikes, how he built his car, a story about every scar he has, and how he prefers Coke over Pepsi. I feel like I know every painstaking detail of his life. I guess small town kids don't meet new people to often.

As soon as he ran out of things to tell me, he started bombarding me with questions. I answer him sparingly with little detail, which is frustrating him. I am getting some enjoyment out of the exasperated expressions which play shamelessly across his face.

"Really Heather, what's your middle name? I know you have one! Please, what is it?"

He is so eager. I really don't want to tell him, but it's like denying a puppy your bacon scraps. He won't shut up till I give him what he wants. He whines at me again, pleading, but a smirk is hiding beneath his pout. I sigh,

"Rochelle. It's Rochelle." I grimace, unhappy that he wormed it out of me. I hate my middle name, only a handful of people know it. I usually pretend I don't have one. His eyes shine at me, bright and attentive.

"Oh, I like it, reminds me of the ocean. Like shell." He gloats silently, having won the tussle. I make a face at his silly comment.

Despite his lighthearted remarks, he is hard to read. I keep peeking into his eyes, trying to figure out what it is. On the surface, they are excited, but sadness resonates underneath. Hidden further by vivid glimmers of curiosity that explode like fireworks over his irises, I am curious. The moon throws shadows over his brows, hiding something else hiding behind his dark lashes. There is a certain energy drawing me to Jacob, something deeper than the usual chemistry I feel between myself and others. It frustrates me that I cannot place him. Maybe that is what draws me, I feel compelled to figure him out. Something is missing, I know it. He has exposed the surface to me, all the details of his life. Is it a cover up? Maybe he is trying to make me think I know everything about him…but I am over thinking this probably. Lost in thought, I find myself staring at him, and he matches my eyes with an electric spark. I turn, embarrassed. Of what?

"So, where did you say you're from?" He asks, dismissing the awkward moment.

"How much longer are we walking? To tell you the truth, I am getting a little tired." My voice quivers slightly as I finish the sentence. Its bullshit. I am wired, completely awake. The adrenalin from earlier gave me a boost I still haven't climbed down from. Anxiety is eating away at the walls of my stomach, like angry butterflies slicing me with their wings. All this talking is distracting me. Maybe it's his tactic to fool me into walking even further away from where I need to be. I try to eradicate that thought from my head, stupid paranoia. Inherited from my mother, it prohibits me from trusting anyone, even people I want to trust. I just don't want him to feel my anxiety. My voice gave it away though. He senses the sudden unease and scowls. Quickly though, he replaces the scowl with a cooler expression.

"Another ten minutes, it's just around the corner." I look up at him and catch him scrutinizing me again. Maybe he is having the same problem I am. I'm mystified by his eyes, drawn into them. I cut myself off, forcing my gaze to the ground. The sound of our footsteps is loud, comforting the silence of the night.

"Issaquah."

"What?" He looks confused, then "oh, that's where you're from?" I nod, my eyes still glued to the ground. I wonder if he s offended at my skittishness. Its quiet until a small house comes into view a few minutes later. Its sharp, inorganic shape cuts at the soft silhouette of the forest around it.

"Here it is, home sweet home." He grins and I smile weakly back, still confounded by my bravery. Or stupidity? I don't know. I still can't believe I followed this kid home.

It is a small house with heavy dark wood paneling, but quaint in a woodsy type of way. Jacob opens the door and ducks underneath the doorframe in a practiced maneuver. Its quiet, his father must already be asleep. The house smells good, earthy and old. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the darkness. The moon must have been brighter than I realized. My bag falls with a dull thud next to a sagging couch as Jacob stalks off. A light appears from the next room. I follow him into the kitchen where he is pulling a pizza box out of the fridge. Opening the box, he picks up a piece and shoves it into his mouth in two bites before gesturing to the box, now on the table, offering me a piece. He is chewing awkwardly, I chuckle. He looks ridiculous. He frowns, still chewing, at my reaction to his eating habits. Taking a piece, I nibble at it suspiciously. I hate cold pizza but don't want to be annoying and ask for it to be heated up. One piece is enough for me, but Jacob doesn't stop even to talk as he stuffs down another five, finishing up the whole box. I guess he was hungry.

"Sorry, I was starving." He sighs and sits back into a chair, stretching happily. "Hope I didn't scare you, I know I eat like a cave man. It's a bad habit." He grins at me again, his teeth glow bright against his burnt umber skin.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I've seen worse." He is letting me crash at his place and I am still alive, so I can barely complain about his eating habits. He tells me to wait where I am as he grabs some linens. While I wait, I observe the details of the kitchen. It has a lived in look. A few spices and seasonings are spilt on a cabinet surface. There are pizza boxes stacked by the trashcan. He must love pizza. Suddenly, without me hearing, Jacob is by my side. Kinda creepy. Though, I've noticed that he moves gracefully for such a tall guy. Maybe he takes martial arts or something. He tows me back to the living room while chattering about what he wants to make for breakfast. I listen halfheartedly, I feel so tired all of a sudden. I yawn loudly, and rub my eye a little. He turns to look at me yawning. I notice he is pretty tired himself, dark circles rim his eyes. He turns back. Arranging the blanket and pillow as a makeshift bed, he stands back proudly, admiring his handy work. I raise an eyebrow mockingly, but thank him.

"Really, thanks. Sorry I was so skitzo back there, I just don't usually trust weirdos I find on the roadside."

"Hey! I am not a weirdo," he feigns being upset, wiping an invisible tear from his eyes, "at least I know when I walk towards a setting sun I am going west." He grins at his little insult. I stick out my tongue at him playfully, but his eyes catch me up. An electric shiver goes down my spine, again I look away.

"Well, goodnight. Let me know if you need anything." Jacob drifts off into the dark hallway and disappears. I forgo a wish goodnight as he is already in his room by the time my mind processes his own comments. I am way too tired. I snuggle into the couch and promptly fall asleep.


	3. Pancakes

I awoke on the couch, stiff from sleeping awkwardly on my side

I awoke on the couch, stiff from sleeping awkwardly on my side. It took me a minute to remember where I was, putting me on edge as I shook off my slumber. Still, no one else is awake. I took the liberty of using Jacob's bathroom; I was in dire need of a shower. Now, I am literally twiddling my thumbs while sitting on the couch waiting for my hair to dry. I can hear Jacob snoring loudly from his bedroom down the hall. Well, until he just stopped. I rise and peek around the corner to where his room is, the door slightly cracked. His light turns on and he yawns loudly.

"Jacob?" I timidly question, my voice sounds raspy from lack of use this morning. He appears from the doorframe, his hair a mess, still without a shirt. He sees me and then disappears again.

"Just a minute," he yells from his room, "what do ya want for breakfast? We have pancakes, sausage, grits, pizza…" I tune him out as he rambles about various breakfast foods.

"I don't mind, whatever you want." He appears from his room, wearing a white wife beater and dark wash jeans. His shadow dominates the hallway as he walks towards me with a lanky gait.

"How did you sleep, I hope the couch wasn't too uncomfortable." He makes a sympathetic face as I lie, saying I slept fine. In reality, I tossed and turned all night and woke up at least twice. But he doesn't need to know that, I don't want to disappoint him. Satisfied with my answer, he stands and leaves the room, deep in thought.

In the kitchen I hear him dropping utensils and bowls as he scrambles to put something together. Wandering into the kitchen, I wonder what my surprise meal is. Jacob seems to be in a chipper mood as he mixes batter in a bowl and warms syrup in the microwave. Pancakes it is.

"It's a mountain." I examine the floppy, steaming pile of freshly made pancakes before me as Jacob piles the last two on top.

"Really, we won't finish all these. I don't know why you made so many."

"Don't you worry, I am pretty sure I could handle a pile twice this size." His eyes are gleaming with delight as he falls into the chair, a bucket of syrup in hand. Viciously, he stabs through four or five pancakes and dumps them on my plate before giving himself a helping. Horror struck, I protest.

"Jacob, really, I don't need this many!" His eyebrow arches as he goes in for the kill, relieving me of three pancakes. I grin at him, he reminds me of a little kid. In between mouthfuls of syrupy pancakes he outlines the plans for the day.

"The ferry doesn't leave from Port Angeles till tomorrow afternoon, so I figured you might as well crash here for another night instead of paying for a hotel room in the city. I can drive you tomorrow right to the ferry landing. Today, I thought it would be fun if you met some of my friends. They are super nice; they will like you I promise. Is that cool for you?"

Decisions, decisions…Should I stay with him? My face wrinkles with indecisiveness. He is charming and so easy going…and good looking to complete the package. It's almost dangerous for me to stay with him. My eyes timidly rise to his and I can help but burst out into a little smile at his awaiting gaze. I couldn't leave him, he would be upset.

"Sure, Jake. I will come, but only if you promise me your friends aren't as freaky as you." Taking mock offense, he bends his head over with shame.

"Haha, I am just kidding, lighten up." His eyes flicker up to me, though his pout remains. I can tell he is having fun with this one.

"Come on Jacob, don't be such a baby."

"I am not a baby, you're just a bully!" He growls with the viciousness of a schoolboy. I gasp back in mock anger, insisting on telling the teacher on him. Bantering back and forth, I am enjoying our little games of insults.

"But really, is the plan alright for you?"

I answer back, this time barely thinking, "yeah, it sounds great." I give him a nervous smile, which he returns with a lopsided smirk.

Loading into his car, we've decided to meet up with his friends for a picnic lunch by the beach. I am so excited! I absolutely love the beach, and I bet the locals know all the best places. I have my camera with me, a birthday present from my uncle. It's a Nikon D-40. Simple, but it is useful and has great picture quality. I bring it absolutely everywhere. Driving there, I flicker through the images already on the card. The 438 pictures are all from my camping venture- the ferry, the campsite, the forests, animals, flowers, and lastly a snapshot of the lonely highway at dusk. I took the last photo only minutes before meeting Jacob.

"Hey Jacob, look over here!" Caught off guard, he turns with a bewildered look on his face. Snap. I laugh at the ridiculous expression plastered on his face.

"Hey, I am driving! You could kill us both with stupid things like that."

"Yeah, whatever. I think this picture is worth it though, haha. I can't wait to show your friends, you look so funny."

Slightly annoyed, he simply huffs loudly to show how funny he thinks it is. Gazing at the photo then to him, my skin prickles. Its not fear or guilt though. For the first time in a long while, it is pure unfiltered excitement.


	4. The Beach

The car crunches on the gravel, swaggering dangerously from side to side as it tackles the uphill bends. I stare at the edge of the road as the car negotiates a particularly sharp turn, worried the wheels will slip into the roadside ditch any second. Jacob is calm, whistling quietly to himself. I am sure he has the roads of this town imprinted onto the back of his eyelids by now. He could drive blindfolded and not miss a single turn. I am still worried about that ditch though, I don't trust this car. My nose wrinkles. The unmistakable salty bitter scent of the ocean is growing stronger, even with the windows shut. I grow alert, I love nothing more than the ocean. The trees are stacked in neat dense rows, slowly thinning to give way to the weak afternoon sunlight.

"I hear the ocean!" I lean forward in anticipation of the beach which lies beyond the last of the straggling forest. It's probably full of rounded gray stones and bleached drift wood, like the beaches by my house. Maybe here the ocean is a bit grayer, with a stronger current than waters in the sound. I hope I will find a rock pool with some starfish and…

"You only just now heard it?" Jacob's intolerant tone bursts my daydreaming bubble. I shoot a dark scowl in his direction, though he pretends to concentrate on the road. The side of his mouth curls up slowly and he dares to turn to me. Curiosity killed the cat. I make a face at him so horrible, I am sure it will show up in his nightmares. My eyebrows scrunch and my eyes light up with fire. I wrinkle my nose and furrow my brow with anger. My teeth are bared in the most unladylike manner, and I cross my arms with a melodramatic flair that sets off my look.

One glance. His eyes grow wide in disbelief, and he rips into a peal of laughter, giving in completely to his own hysteria. Quickly, my unsightly face disintegrates. Maybe I overdid the eyebrows…Imagining my repulsive expression, I can't help but join the laughter.

"Whoever knew, hahaha, that a girl as pretty as you could make such an ugly face. I wish I had the camera just then, hahaha!"

My laughter turns shallow and then stops completely while he finishes off a few chuckles. Was that a compliment…or an insult? I can't really tell. My thoughts are whirring; does he really think I am pretty? Pretty ugly, more like. I've never considered myself a ten, though I am not completely hopeless. I have always loved my wavy raven hair which hangs in a tussled mess around my shoulders. My skin is pale, almost translucent, which I dislike. My eyes are pretty enough, but then again, is it possible for eyes to be ugly? They are the gateway to the soul, and you'd have to be pretty rotten to have an ugly soul. Caught up in my thoughts, I don't feel the car stop.

"We are here! My friends are just over by the shore. Lets go." I look up at Jacob, excited to meet his friends, though a little nervous too. He winks at me and leaps from the car. He winked at me!

I need to stop this.

Now. It is ridiculous. I hardly know him.

But he winked at me!

The heavy door slams shut with a groan. My feet shiver with joy at the feel of the smooth stones underneath them. Each contour smooshes into my foot with an uneven pressure that is almost painful, but so unique and unusual that I can't help but hobble excitedly as fast as I can after Jacob. He is walking with the gait of someone familiar to the rocky shore. I move at a snails pace, slithering over the unstable surface. I am panicking a bit. I have been left behind. I see a blur further down the shore, a group of people situated around a fire pit. Jacob has taken off in front of me, far enough that I would have to yell to get his attention. My breath rushes in sharp. Why am I panicking, I can see where I am going. Jacob stops and turns around, as if sensing my impending panic. He waves me over impatiently.

"I am hobbling as fast as I can!" Its not that fast. Jacob jogs over, shaking his head. He arrives in a few long strides, his ability to balance is impressive.

"You are a bit pathetic. Do you need a hand?"

"No, I can walk by myself, I just go a bit slower." I'm glad he is walking with me, but I maintain my last shred of self respect. Holding my head high, I continue slipping over the uneven rocks; my feet are starting to hurt now.

"Are you sure? I could pick you up, it would…"

"No! I am fine. Just walk with me for a few extra minutes! I don't think it will kill your friends to wait a bit." I am so stubborn sometimes. I feel bad that Jacob has to be subjected to my general craziness. I focus on the task at hand-walking. My breathing is calm; the air feels tangy on my skin. The wind is blowing the smoke from the fire pit in our direction. I love the deep heavy smell of the smoke. Crashing, the waves continue their dance along the shore, inching closer with every moment as the tide comes in. The clip-clop of the rolling rocks under my feet completes the musical of the seaside.

"This is such a nice beach. I would come here all the time if I lived here." Jacobs face is unreadable.

"Yeah, it is a nice beach. My friends and I come here a lot to hang out."

I nod in acknowledgment. The blur of kids has turned into a recognizable group. There are four boys, all around Jacob's age, and one girl. The boys are close to Jacob in size and build. It's a little intimidating. I feel tiny all of a sudden. Usually I am not so aware of my height- or lack thereof- but their incredible stature just makes me more conscious of myself.

We reach their circle where everyone is seated on big dead trees serving as benches. Consciously, I move behind Jacob a step, I feel uneasy. They all smile and greet Jacob warmly with hugs and a few play punches.

"This is Heather Rochelle Stevens, my wayward hiker friend who I saved from certain death on the highway yesterday." He grins, impressed with his creative introduction. He introduces me to everyone else. They all smile back at me, except for Sam. For some reason I am still on edge. I don't even protest at Jacob's stupid intro. Sam is bristling with hostility. Jacob senses the tension and quickly tries to soothe it.

"Hey, so do you guys wanna hear the story of how I found her? It is pretty funny."

"Oh, come on Jake, really?" I protest weakly, embarrassed, though hoping his comforting voice will calm me down. I make a move to sit down. Suddenly, the wind changes direction. My hair flies in front of me, flickering into my eyes and mouth. I rub my face, trying to rid it of the unwanted tresses.

A low growl erupts from a few feet away, its Sam. My eyes fly open, bright with fear. I can feel my muscles seizing up, my color drains. He is on the balls of his feet, hunched over as if he is about to pounce. I think he is literally growling, like a dog. I can hear it rumbling deep in his throat. Time slows down. I can feel myself turn to Jacob, my mouth open in a little "o" of terror. Jacob glances at me, his eyes full of surprise as much as my own. He flicks back to Sam, who has his gaze locked on me. I can't move. The air is electric.

I am looking at myself. Wait, what? A second passes slowly as I reconfigure my thinking. I am looking at myself, at the whole situation, from a different perspective. I am up above everything, in a strange numb haze. Below, Jacob springs in between my rigid body and Sam's quivering form. He is yelling something at Sam with a throaty low snarl. I hear them bickering, each shifting their weight as they judge the other's position. Jacob is trying to calm Sam down. They are talking about something important, but I can't quite hear. I strain, trying to understand them. It's hard. They are speaking in such low tones. I hear my name.

Heather. Suddenly I am aware of myself again. Fear grips me. My body is standing helpless below my…mind?

My eyes are rolling, and I manage a ragged gasp. I am me, standing back on the beach. Jacob is more relaxed, standing straight next to Sam who is surrounded by all the others who are also calming him down. His gaze is still on me, intense and dark. I blink, slow and heavy. I just blacked out, for how long? I missed the whole ordeal. What an inconvenience. Jacob probably won't want to tell me what happened. I wonder why he….my eyes roll back, and I feel my skull crash softly against the strange round beach rocks. A sigh escapes my icy lips, and I fall into a deep warm darkness.


	5. The Room

My eyes shoot open; I fly from my dreams into reality

My eyes shoot open; I fly from my dreams into reality. Instantly, my mind reels, processing everything I saw earlier with lightening speed. Erratically, my limbs clamber into an unbalanced standing position. Rolling onto the balls of my feet, I take a defensive position as I tried to figure out, where am I?

The smell is familiar, and my senses rush back to me all at once. Its Jacob's house. I relax and look around, taking in actual details of the room. His twin sized bed looks to small to fit him. I rustle the sheets I disturbed from my sleep. Its small, but with a cozy feel to it. A few wayward car parts are scattered on a set of drawers, the door of the closet is ajar, revealing long arms of sweaters and coat hangers hanging at wild angles. Heavy curtains cover the long window on the other side of the room. I walk to the window and pull up the curtains, expecting a face full of weak sunshine. Instead, its dusk. Eerie shadows waver across the forest boundary outside. The sky bubbles with dark oranges and moody purples, which stain the graying blue. I slept all day. I freeze up, I am nervous, what happened today? I am confused.

I need to talk to Jacob but fear seizes my throat and I cannot speak. A ripple of anxiety sets my skin prickling with goose bumps. The door seems very ominous and scary all of a sudden. Its dead silent. My leaden limbs refuse to move. I attempt a call, but my voice withers in the dry air. Instead, I walk around the room loudly, making the floorboards creek and rustling the bed sheets. I am such a dork, but it works. I hear a muffled comment from the kitchen, and a few responses. The heavy sound of Jacob's walk nears the door. Quickly, I sit down and make myself look sleepy, as if I just awoke.

"Awake sleepyhead?" His tone is light, but his expression is like a rock. Solid, unreadable.

"Yeah…what's going on?" My hand runs through matted hair nervously. My grimace exudes self pity.

"Some people are over…discussing what happened earlier. Are you alright? You took a pretty hard fall on the rocks."

It is true, I fell hard. My fuzzy thoughts heed my ability to think, along with the painful throbbing of my skull. A few painkillers will numb everything though. I relish the thought for a second. A slight obsession, I crave the feeling of being numb. I generally abstain, as my nature tends towards addiction of those sorts of things, but my head it in too much pain. Jacob leaves to get some advil from the kitchen. Standing, I look at my reflection in the wall mirror. I rate myself at somewhere between that of a hobo and a dragon-lady. Thought the hair could be mad scientist-esq….

"A dragon what?"

Horrified. Its Jacob, walking in with a glass of water and the bottle of medication. I mumbled out loud, how embarassing.

"Oh, nothing, just thinking I look like a dragon lady."

He gives me a weird look which quickly morphs into one of despair. His face turns rapidly from my peering view and he slumps onto the bed, items still in hand. He sets down the water on a bedside table and hands me the bottle. I shake two…no three. Four. I take for pills, and grab for the water. I pop down three, saving the other for later. Regretting not taking more, I set down the bottle, not wanting to raise suspicion. The silence rings in my ears eerily, I sit down next to Jacob. The palms of my hands press down heavily on my knees, leaving white marks when I move them to the bedside.

"Jacob, what is wrong?"

His plate sized hand rises to his face. His warm breath rushes out onto me as he takes a deep sigh. Turning to me, his eyes flicker with confliction. My mouth opens slightly, not knowing what to say. I can feel my eyes whirring side to side, as if I am reading the pages of a book.

"Its just with you and Sam. It's a little complicated." He pauses, I urge him on.

"Well…We are a certain kind of people. There are people on the rez, and everyone else. Sam is very sensitive to who is who, and doesn't like outsiders so much."

"I thought you said everyone would be chill with me, that it was no problem." My eyebrows furrow, he never mentioned Sam's aversion to others before.

"Well, I thought he would like you. Its not that he doesn't like outsiders, he just needs time to get used to them. You're my friend, so I figured he wouldn't mind. Which, he wouldn't have, but..." His eyes wander upwards, searching for words. "You're different. It's hard to explain. He…he didn't think you were like us, but your not like everyone else either. You are something different he has never seen before, and he got a bit defensive I guess."

As if the light turned on behind his eyes, they peer into me with a fiery brightness. The unemotional edge remains iced around his brown irises. He searches for something; he wants me to explain Sam's problem. I don't know why Sam hates me!

"Well I don't know why he would think that." I turn defensive. This is silly.

"Heather, why did you faint?" Sternly, he peers into me further.

"I didn't mean to, if that's what your intending." I scoff, "Do you think I planned that?" He isn't gonna get any answers so easily acting like this.

"I don't mean it that way. I'm sorry," his face softens and he relaxes. "I am just a little stressed about this. I am trying to figure out what triggered such a reaction in Sam."

His icy tone melts away and his brighter self starts to shine through.

"Well, this may sound a little strange, but I had like, an out of body experience. I felt like I floated above everyone and watched you guys from below, and I saw myself standing there. As soon as I heard you fighting with Sam and yelling my name, I remembered who I was, and fell back into myself. That's when I felt my eyes roll up and I fell. Its never happened before." I offer a meek smile, hoping that is the answer he wants. Furrows erupt onto his brow, his lips raise in a near snarl.

"Who are your parents?" He snaps at me, suddenly upset. I feel my eyes rolling wide and afraid. I rise off the bed and back up a step, shaking with a river of emotions.

"W- W- What?" My arms are raised in a defensive position without even thinking. My heart flutters with desperate beats. He looks down, fists clenched till white. He bites his bottom lip, restraining his anger. Gasping raggedly in silent bursts, my mind is whirring.

"I've lived with my aunt and uncle since I was six months old; my mom was killed in a car accident." I breathe the sentence out in a throaty whisper. His eyes lock on me, one dimensional, without depth.

"What is your family history? Your ancestors?" He throws out the words in a strict tone.

"I've heard we are related to Virginia Dare, but that was just a family legend." I am frozen into place. Damn my fear, my incompetence. "She was part of the lost colony of Roanoak. The first European born on American soil." I pause, searching for a reaction on his stone face. "Family legend says she survived her mother trying to drown her when the colony was starving to death. She was taken in by the Croatoan tribe and eventually married a tribesman and had a baby with him, but the husband died of smallpox. Eventually, only she and the baby survived the outbreak so they moved to a European settlement. Some people say Virginia returns as a white doe to the coast to grieve her lost colony and lost love."

I repeated our little family history with bated breath, hoping to not inflame his temper. It is a silly little story, I never believed it. Everyone family has their own legends; I assumed our story was just that, folklore. He continues searching me with those dark eyes, still impossible to read.

"I have to go. Stay here."

He exits. I break down onto the bed and start to sob. What is this?


	6. Ferry Ride

I am leaving

I am leaving. I've put all my things together. Jacob is talking to his father and someone else in the living room before we leave. Last night's memories float in my mind, constant but not on the forefront of my thoughts. This morning we discussed what to do. Jacob explained something, though I still cannot quite figure out what he means. He and his friends are involved in some sort of covert group, their purpose still eludes me. Somehow, I pose a threat to the security of their group. That is all I can extract from his round about answers and avoidance of my pleading gaze. I want to know. It burns me up with anger and frustration. My nature is to seek answers. I am smoldering.

"Ready to go?" Jacob saunters in from the other room, a small bag in his hand, the car keys dangling from the other. His gaze floats over me, shivers crash down my spine.

"Sure, lets go." He shoulders my large bag. His gaze gives away his regret. I know he did not mean for this to happen. I feel my anger melting away, it is really not his fault this all happened.

The car growls to life and crunches on the gravel as we pull away from his house.

"Listen, Heather, I am really sorry about all this, truly. I hope you are not mad. I wish I could tell you everything, I really do. It just, it is so complicated. I don't want to get you caught up in it." His genuine tone resonates through the car like a peaceful breeze. Calmed, I let out a slow sigh.

"I know you didn't want this to happen. I'm sorry I have been acting like such a bitch. I just feel so in the dark, it is frustrating for me."

"Trust me, I know how you feel. I have been there." A sympathetic smile breaks across his face, the first to surface in days. "It's best just to leave it. You can go home and forget I ever existed."

"No way, I won't forget you!" I insist, a playful tone in my plea. He grins back, picking up my air of forgiveness. The rest of the car ride passes smoothly, our former lightheartedness returns.

Noon breaks with a weak sun shining across the ashen waters of Port Angeles. The ferry floats on the horizon, nearing the port. Screeching and puttering, the car comes to a stop and Jacob kills the engine. The seat squeaks as he turns to me, a sad little smile passing over his handsome face.

"I guess this is where we part ways." I grimace to myself, keeping my face turned to the window. I whisper,

"not quite yet, I hope." I don't know if he hears me. I dare a peek back at his face before I open the door. The cold is biting, the wind blustery from the ocean currents. Jacob languidly appears at the back of the car, popping the trunk to get my bag. Helping me shoulder the ridiculous weight, I feel his warm hands graze my shoulders. I don't want this to end. Time passes in slow motion for these few minutes as he waits with me for the ferry to arrive. We wait in a comfortable silence. Despite the weirdness of my short adventure with this stranger, I feel indelibly changed. Some event churned into motion the instant I met him. I can feel Fate working his mysterious self from the shadowy corners of my life. The ferry arrives and my wide eyes brim with the thought of my departure. Jacob looks like a sad puppy. His hand in a pocket, face downcast, he presents me with a piece of paper. Dark locks cover his vivid eyes, peering into me with that same intoxicating power from when we first met on the roadside. I take the paper. My mouth opens to say something, parting words. He already turned and left. His car roars to life as I walk down the road to the ticket booth. The car tires tear around the corner as he leaves. Alone, I board the ferry. The paper held tightly in my hand unfurls a message for me scrawled in blue pen. I smile, his phone number.

The ferry ride to Friday Harbor is only an hour. It passes slowly, my gaze never wavering from the window. Conspiracy theories and a million other different ideas clash in my thoughts. What is it? What did I just encounter? That afternoon replays over and over in my head. I try to remember every detail of those family stories my Grandpa repeated to me every weekend I visited. Virginia Dare was the first European colonist born in America. The child she had with the Indian man, he supposedly was my ancestor. He passed for a white man and decided to buy a farm in New England. Our descendants since moved further south, ending up scattered across the eastern coast. Still, it seemed like Virginia Dare was always the central figure of the stories, not the unnamed son. There are rumors of her ability to shape shift into a white doe. She is quite well known among the science fiction realm as a figure in the Buffy Vampire Slayer series, as the vampire killer "White Doe." I always thought that was cool. I remember telling my elementary school friends that I was related to a vampire killer from Buffy when the series was popular. I wonder why Jacob would ask specifically about Indian descendants though. Is there some Indian mafia? Maybe it is some casino drug lord type thing. Or maybe they thought I came from a rival tribe. East coast versus west coast? Probably not. Indian folklore often involves animals and magic, maybe that is real? Almost certainly not, but I always remembered my grandfather and his stories. The way his old eyes lit up when he me told about Virginia, the purest soul, the white doe who haunts the forests of Roanoke Island still. His raven hair and crinkled olive skin always reminded me of an Indian, but his light grey eyes did not complete the image. Still, Virginia Dare stands out in my mind. The way Jacob's eyes flickered when I uttered her name. His lips pursed up and eyes narrowed to slits. His abrupt departure that left me in tears of frustration and confusion means something. Something about that story disturbed him. Now I just have to find out why.


End file.
